


The Replacement Sigil

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Embarrassed Sam, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Frottage, M/M, Tattoo Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: Cas burned Sam's anti-possession tattoo off.(Put that thing back or so help me)





	The Replacement Sigil

Dean watched as Sam stripped out of his shirt and collapsed back onto the worn old couch. 

“This okay?” 

“Fine.”

Dean peeled the plastic covering off a fresh needle, setting it into the gun.

“Same place?” 

Sam glanced down at the expanse of bare skin over his left pectoral. It was smooth and unblemished, showing no sign of the mark that Castiel had burned off. 

“Yeah.” 

He pulled a couple towels off a roll, soaking them with the bottle of isopropyl alcohol. Dean checked his equipment again. They hadn’t survived a dozen gruesome maulings only to get picked off by a blood infection.

Someone would probably bring them back, but damn. What an embarrassment. 

Sam had already shaved the area smooth (and he would receive due mocking for that, in good time) so Dean applied the stencil, giving it a couple seconds to set. 

When he peeled it off, the familiar shape of the anti-possession tattoo was marked on Sam’s skin. It was pale blue rather than black, but that wouldn’t last long. 

“Ready?”

Sam licked his lips, his gaze unusually focused. Dean pushed his toe against the foot pedal, making it buzz. Sam jumped a little, his eyes widening, and dean laughed.

“You nervous, now?” 

“No!”

Sam’s face was turning red, and Dean grinned. 

He pushed the pedal again. Sam actually shivered, his eyes fixed on the gun. 

“Quit trembling, Samantha, you’ll mess up the design.” 

“Shut up and do it already, would you?” 

Dean laughed and leaned in, letting his hand rest against Sam’s chest.    
Sam tensed, but didn’t move, even when Dean lowered the tip. 

He started with the pentagram, marking the straight lines with short, bold strokes. 

Sam whimpered. 

“Baby,” Dean scoffed at him. 

It only took a few minutes to mark the pentagram, but by the time they were done, Sam’s hands were clasped in tight fists. His brow was furrowed and Dean was starting to get concerned. 

“Seriously, man, you want me to stop?” 

“No!” 

Sam’s voice was a touch higher than Dean would have expected. Something was definitely wrong. This was  _ Sam _ , who did his own stitches and got anesthetic and antiseptic from the same bottle. 

This was a tattoo. It shouldn’t even  _ register. _

Dean almost messed up the circle around the star, he was so busy watching Sam’s face. Each time the tip stroked his skin, his brow furrowed. His breathing was deep, too, and as Dean watched, his mouth fell open, just a-

_ Wait a second. _

Dean repositioned, leaning further over the couch to change the angle. 

In the process, he  _ accidentally _ may have brushed a forearm over Sam’s groin, and sure enough, little brother was enjoying this a little  _ too _ much. Sam almost sat straight up, staring at him wide-eyed. 

Dean cackled. 

“You big faker, you’re not  _ scared. _ You’re turned on!” 

Sam’s face went beet red. 

“I was falling asleep!”

“Were not.” 

“Was too. I was about to pass out when you elbowed me in the crotch.” 

“You mean, ‘in the giant hardon you were getting from being tattooed.’”

Sam glared, which turned to pouting. 

“I don’t give you shit about  _ your _ weird fetishes.” 

“I don’t  _ deny _ my weird fetishes. Did you get turned on the first time, too?” 

Sam’s shocked silence answered the question, and Dean howled. 

“Dude, that artist was ancient! I was getting ready to test him with silver!” 

“He was like forty, Dean.” 

Dean suddenly sobered, drawing a very serious face.

“Sam,” he said, and he wasn’t going to get through this whole thing with a straight face, he could already tell, “did you get off in that guy’s tattoo parlor?” 

“No!” 

“ _ You did! _ ” Dean screeched, and it was only by miracle that he remembered he was still holding the tattoo gun. “No wonder you tipped him so good!” 

“I always tip well! Some of us have actually  _ worked _ tipped jobs, asshole!” 

Dean hesitated, trying to fit ‘work’ and ‘tip’ into some innuendo worthy of this situation, but Sam was apparently done with the conversation. He flopped back down onto the couch, gesturing to the half-finished design.

“Are you gonna finish it or what?”

“I dunno, are you gonna profane the sigil as soon as I’m done?” 

“Don’t be gross.” 

Dean shrugged and went back to work, splitting his attention between the tattoo and Sam’s face. It was dangerous, he was asking to make a mistake… and yet he couldn’t seem to resist looking. 

He filled in one of the sunburst spikes, and Sam groaned, his hips shifting a little. 

“Don’t move,” Dean ordered. It didn’t do him much good; as soon as he began on the next spike, Sam shifted again. 

“Dammit. Get a grip on yourself, will you?”

Sam bit his lip, his face burning red.

“Sorry.” 

“No, I mean  _ literally, _ ” Dean said. “Hold onto yourself and then your hips won’t shift like that.” 

“You’re not serious.” 

“Do I look like I wanna do this twice?”

Sam stared at Dean for a second, before reluctantly reaching down the front of his pants. He had to pop the button and pull the zipper halfway down in order to make room. Dean watched appreciatively, admiring the way Sam’s fingers encircled his length. 

“Squeeze,” Dean said. “Don’t stroke. That’ll make it worse.” 

Sam only nodded his answer. He was too humiliated to speak. 

Dean was on cloud nine as he went back to the starburst. He was more than a quarter of the way around the circle now, but he was taking his time. Sam was biting his lip, his brow furrowed as he squeezed his cock. 

“Dean…” 

“This does it for you, huh?” 

“Nnn…”

Dean filled in another point, hesitating between strokes, making his brother wait for it. 

“Cuz it hurts?” 

Sam snorted. 

“God, no.” 

“It’s cuz you shaved, isn’t it, you love being all silky-smooth.”

“Will you  _ drop  _ it?” 

“Mmmmm….” Dean made a couple more strokes, watching Sam’s breathing catch on each one. “Nah.” 

He was mostly done now, only a few more spikes to fill in. 

“You like being all marked up, then?” 

“Shut up.” 

_ Bingo. _

“You like having that on you, forever? Knowing I put that there?”

Sam groaned and gave himself a half-stroke before remembering to be still. Dean grabbed his other hand, drawing it onto his own cock. 

Sam didn’t need directions. He fondled Dean through his jeans, stroking his brother’s hardening cock while Dean went back to finishing the tattoo. 

“Gonna mark you all up, baby boy.” 

Sam’s hand tightened around him, and Dean struggled to hold his hands steady for the last spike of the starburst. 

As soon as it was done he set the gun aside, fumbling his pants down before straddling Sam’s thighs. His cock rubbed against Sam’s, only a thin layer of cotton boxers between them. 

“What else do you want, Sammy?” 

Sam didn’t answer, his eyes were closed and he was panting. Dean took over, fishing Sam’s cock out of his boxers and stroking them both together. 

“Protection sigils? Warding? Mermaid for your shoulder?” 

“Shut up,” Sam gasped, but his cock twitched. Dean stroked faster, grinding down against Sam’s thighs. 

“Maybe my name, huh? Property of? Right across your cute little-”

Dean reached down, scratching his fingers through the short hair at the base of Sam’s cock and Sam cried out, arching against Dean’s thighs as he came. 

Dean came right after, his come mixing with Sam’s as it puddled on his skin. 

Thankfully, they had missed the tattoo. Dean was able to reach the bandage, and he taped it over the design without even having to move. 

“This doesn’t leave the bunker,” Sam insisted. Dean raised an eyebrow. 

“Sure, but only if I get to put another sigil on your ass.” 

To be fair, Sam didn’t say  _ no. _

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to Mayalaen for my probably-terrible tattoo etiquette. I did learn that you can apparently just BUY tattoo machines on Amazon for like $60 and that seems like a just terrible idea.


End file.
